


The Decorations We Make Are So Much More Than Glitter and Garland.

by augopher



Series: The Things We Make, We Make With Love [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Single Parent Derek, Stiles does crafts, Stiles' grandparents are hippies, Thanksgiving, gender variant character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 10:50:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3117422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/augopher/pseuds/augopher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanksgiving is quickly approaching, and with the dinner at the Stilinski house, Stiles wants everything to be perfect, even the decorations. With hard work, helpful hands, and a lot to be thankful for, the dinner turned out to be so much more than perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Decorations We Make Are So Much More Than Glitter and Garland.

Stiles pushed his cart down the paper aisle at the craft store, carefully deliberating which colors and textures would work best for his centerpiece idea. Colorful sheets with harvest patterns and Thanksgiving themes went into the basket, followed by sheets of autumn colored cardstock. In the basket, they joined a couple stacks of construction paper and a few artificial pumpkins.

From around the corner, Stephen appeared carrying a softball sized Styrofoam ball. “Is this one too small, Stiles?”

“Nope. That one looks perfect.”

“And this is going to be a turkey?” He looked at the ball, an incredulous expression on his face.

“Yes.”

“Uh huh. Sure it is.”

Stiles took the ball from him and tossed it into the cart. “Come on, let’s go pick out some paint. Then it will start to make sense.” They started for the paint aisle on the other side of the store. “What did you do in school today?” He asked as he watched Stephen play with the brass buttons on his navy blazer.

Frantic, Derek had called around to every other school in the area looking for openings in the middle of the semester just so he could simply get Stephen out of his school as quickly as possible. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest that all the public schools were full to capacity with large classroom sizes and lacked the resources to take Stephen. He figured that the public schools would be more accepting of Stephen’s gender expression than a private one. So he’d been hesitant to interview any of them. The last thing he wanted to do was take him out of a school where he was accepted by the administration and put him in a new school where he wasn’t. For the most part, his interviews with the schools proved him right.

Yet, when he branched away from the religiously affiliated schools, he found Willow Grove Academy, which was surprisingly progressive when it came to the subject of tolerance. Thankfully, they had an opening, but as they stated, had no scholarship room for the year should he need one. However, they did provide a list of businesses in the area who sold uniforms at a discount. Derek had never been so glad to be sitting on a mountain of mostly unused life insurance money in his life. Hell, the only thing he’d used it for had been college and buying his house. That barely made a dent.

Stephen was allowed to wear skirts, dresses and other traditional girl clothing so long as what he wore adhered to the uniform policy, which could only contain clothes of navy, white, and burgundy in color, or a navy/burgundy plaid combination. Khaki was allowed for pants only, but as Derek found out when reading the dress code (All ten pages of it), skinny cut and tapered legged pants were forbidden, as were leggings. He knew immediately that Stephen would not want to wear pants for anything other than gym. Tights or knee high socks had to be worn with any skirt or dress unless the temperature exceeded ninety degrees. Hair accessories and jewelry had to be selected from an approved list, and much to Stephen’s dismay, no sequins or glitter. At first he had put up a fight, but when Derek explained that it meant he got to go shopping for a lot of new clothes, all protests stopped.

Now over a month later, Stephen was not only doing well in school again, but he was also much happier. That made all the legal headaches much easier for everyone. However, given all the evidence and prior incidents, Stiles felt pretty certain Derek would win. Having an excellent attorney didn’t hurt any.

Twice a week, Stephen had been seeing a therapist that Stiles knew personally, as she’d taught two of his classes in undergrad. Dr. Morrell, had a great reputation for helping children through trauma. It seemed to be going well.

He looked back when he did not receive a response, only to find Stephen was not following him to the paint aisle. Turning the cart around, Stiles backtracked through the store until he found him standing, frozen in place staring at the racks of markers. His eyes were glazed over, and he shook slightly.

“Hey Buddy, you okay?”

“It was an accident.”

Stiles knelt in front of him. “What was?”

“I didn’t mean to come down this row. I… I…”

Stiles stood up and offered his hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of it then.” Stiles had Stephen grab hold of the cart handle with both hands. “You help me push, okay?”

The further away they got, the more relaxed Stephen looked. By the time they got to the paint, he was almost back to the snarky mood he’d been in earlier.

“So, we need a brown paint for the turkey’s body. See?” He held up the styrofoam ball. “This is his body. We will paint it brown, and then stick feathers in it, and pipe cleaner feet and a beak.”

“Oh that will look nice.” Stephen said.

“Yeah. How you doing?”

“I’m feeling better. I'm okay now.”

Stiles ruffled his hair. “Good. I also have this paper. We can cut into long strips. Then stack them on top of each other and punch some holes in it. We will put a string through it and make little pumpkins to hang from the ceiling.”

“Wow!” He stared into the cart. “And what else?”

“Well we get to decorate these leaf cutouts with glitter and... Let's see. What more should we make?"

Stephen looked in the cart, and his green eyes took on an elfin gleam. "Can we make hats for everyone to wear?"

"You thinking like Pilgrim hats?"

Stephen rocked back and forth from his heels to the balls of his feet. "Nope. Turkeys."

Laughing, Stiles agreed. “I think my dad would love to wear a turkey hat you made. I’ll see if I can find a pattern when we are finished grocery shopping.” The continued finding their supplies in order to, in Stephen’s words, make it the most beautiful Thanksgiving ever.

Honestly, Stiles was going to need a better storage system for his craft supplies soon. Rubbermaid totes were not going to cut it anymore. Stiles had never been more glad to have a spare closet in his life. Not that he had a problem buying the supplies though. For one, the investment in them once he found employment after graduation would be almost negligent (Though, he’d miss the initial tax write off. That’s for damn sure. Why yes, Dad, I most certainly did pay attention to the lessons you gave me on how to complete my taxes. Thank you very much). Secondly, well, he’d be a total Pinnochio if he said he didn’t like sharing this activity with Stephen. He did; he totally did. The fact that Derek and he had worked out a schedule where Stiles picked Stephen up from school on Mondays and Fridays when his last class let out at one alone was nice, but that he and Stephen spent the afternoons making all kinds of things, running little errands was even better.

Even though Derek had said it was purely for convenience, Stiles knew better. Derek, though he would never admit to it, was testing him to see how Stiles handled the little domestic things about living with someone else, especially when that someone else included a kid. The idea might have offended him, because yeah, Stiles had been taking care of himself for a long time now (He knew how to grocery shop. Okay?), but he understood the rationale. They had survived their first fight and come out stronger on the other side. The potential moving in together concept was still very much on the table.

The funny thing about their little arrangement was that Stiles didn’t mind it one bit. In fact, he loved it. Well aware that he’d let it slip during their argument that he had come to think of Derek and Stephen as his family, he didn’t mention it again for fear of it being just too much too fast for Derek. Stiles hadn’t been lying though. Despite the fact that he’d studied in a field where he would work with children, he’d always thought of kids as something he would have at some distant point in the future, way distant to be precise. He wanted them, absolutely wanted them, just not yet. It was funny how things changed.

As they waited in the checkout line, Stiles asked his prior question. “So, Stevie, what did you do in school today?”

“Well, we picked out books for our Thanksgiving book report.”

“Yeah?” Stiles began loading the counter with his items. “What did you pick?”

“Sarah Gives Thanks. It’s a book about this lady, Sarah Josepha Hale, she helped make Thanksgiving a holiday. It’s a book for bigger kids, but my teacher thinks I will be able to read it, no problem!” He said, his eyes wide and cheerful.

“Did you pick it because you have the same last name as the lady in the book?”

“Wow, Stiles. You’re really smart. That’s the same question Mrs. Chen asked when I picked it. The book report is due in two weeks.”

Stiles handed the cashier his credit card. “I guess that means you’ll need to work on it over the holiday, then huh?”

“That’s okay.”

“Carry this bag for me?” Stiles handed him the bag with the supplies for the turkey centerpiece. “What else did you do?”

“Well we worked on our addition and subtraction using pieces of corn. Not like the corn you eat, but like popcorn before it’s popcorn. Only it was different colors! How cool is that?” He put his bag in the jeep before Stiles helped buckle him into his booster seat.

“That sounds pretty neat. Do you have homework?”

“A little. I need to work on my Thanks Book.”

Stiles pulled the Jeep out of the craft store parking lot and headed to the grocery store. He was a complete moron for putting off purchasing the ingredients for the Thanksgiving meal this late, but hopefully it wasn’t slim pickings at the Safeway.

“And I have to do my sentences, but I got a head start on those already. I finished my math early, and Mrs. Chen said I should maybe work on my homework so I don’t have too much to do this weekend.”

Stiles smiled. After seeing Stephen’s terrible start to the school year, it was a relief to see him excited and animated about school again. That’s not to say he didn’t still struggle. He had his days and still woke up from nightmares screaming for help, but the new school and therapy helped. For the most part, he was back to his normal self, even if he’d become a little shy. He was happy, especially now that the cast was off his arm, the cast he kept by the way. Stiles suspected it had something to do with the art he’d painted on it.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

By the time Derek got home from work, dinner was just about ready. Stephen sat at the table dragging a purple glue stick over a bunch of construction paper leaves. As he removed his jacket, he watched his son dip the sticky leaves in a paper plate filled with glitter, making sure to get them fully saturated before laying them on the newspaper protecting the table. Drying on the counter sat a brown...ball of some sort and a stack of feathers with some various other supplies. Several shopping bags, and leave it to Stiles to own reusable totes covered in various cartoon and comic book characters, sat on the floor. Speaking of Stiles, the man stood at the open oven reading the thermometer on some baked chicken.

He kissed the top of Stephen’s head. “Whatcha making?”

“Hi, Daddy. Sparkly leaves, duh. We’re going to hang them on a ribbon and make… what did you call it, Stiles?”

“Garland.”

“Right. We’re making garland for Thanksgiving. Stiles says you have to help after dinner.”

“Does he really?”

“Yes. He said everyone’s help is needed.”

“What about your homework?”

Stiles pulled the pan out of the oven. “He worked on it for an hour before he started making leaves. He finished his sentences and read, I think, a third of his book. He needs to work on his Thanks Book.”

Derek rose an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, he didn’t explain it to me either. I figured it’s Friday, we could all work on the holiday crafts this evening if you were up to it. Sort of...you know do something together.”

The ‘as a family’ remained unspoken, but Derek felt his stomach flutter at Stiles’ suggestion. Here the man was in his kitchen, preparing dinner, making sure Stephen worked on some of his homework before playing so to speak, and well, on Wednesday Stiles did their laundry. It filled him with such warmth he almost couldn’t handle it.

While Stiles finished up the sauce as the chicken rested on the counter, Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist. “Smells good.”

“It’s nothing fancy. Just a creamy red sauce to go over the chicken and pasta. It’s not from scratch or anything, just from a can and doctored.” He spun in Derek’s arms to offer him a spoonful of sauce. “Well?”

Derek swallowed. “It’s good.” He gave Stiles a soft kiss on the mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stephen put his hands around his throat, pretending to choke while he made gagging noises.

“That’s. so. gross.”

Derek rolled his eyes at his son. “Very funny, Kiddo. What do you say you help me move these to the living room?” He pointed to the leaves on the table.

“Okay, but be careful!”

After dinner, the three of them sat around the kitchen table, when Derek felt a sneeze coming on. _Fucking allergies._ He tried to get his arm up to block it, but instead sneezed right into his plate of glitter. A cloud of brown, burnt orange, and dark red flew up around him; he only managed not to sneeze again by some small miracle. The whole situation was apparently hilarious to Stephen, who started giggling so hard, he rolled off his chair and onto the floor, grabbing his sides. If there was one thing Derek could say about laughter, especially that of children, was that it was contagious, and pretty soon all three of them had joined Stephen on the floor in a similar fit of giggles. Finally, when they were all able to catch their breaths, Stephen rolled over and poked his father in the nose.

“You look like a fairy princess, Daddy.”

“He’s right. You have glitter all over you. Good thing you don’t have to go to work tomorrow.” Stiles joked.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, Fuzzball.”

Stiles crossed his hands over his heart. “Did you.... did you just Han Solo me?” Derek’s only response was a raised eyebrow, and Stiles leaned over to kiss his cheek.

“Ew, not with the kissing again.” Stephen said; his little hands clamped hard over his eyes.

Derek took the opportunity to snake an arm around Stiles’ waist, pulling him in for a less innocent kiss, even if it was only brief. When they broke apart, he grinned at him, before whispering an ‘I love you, you know that?’ into Stiles’ ear.

“Are you still kissing?” Stephen asked from behind his hands.

“No, Buddy.” Derek dusted himself off and stood, extending a hand to both of them to help them up.

“So what do you say we take Daddy off glitter duty from now on, Stevie?”

“Yeah.” He looked at his father’s leaves with disapproval. “He’s not very good at it.” Stephen patted Derek’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Daddy. Not everyone can be good at crafts. Don’t worry; I still love you.”

Derek chuckled. “Thanks.” He was pretty sure he had glitter in his hair and knew that would take several washings to get out. His new job? Cutting paper strips and punching holes. What fun. “What are these strips for?”

“Pumpkins.” Stiles and Stephen said in unison.

Yep, he’d been right on 4th of July, they’d formed an alliance. It was only a matter of time until world domination ensued. He gave it two years. Two years and the world would be covered in paper crafts, ruled by a child with a glittery fist and a brown doe-eyed second in command.

Bring it on.

“Right. Pumpkins.” He held up a strip of orange paper about one inch in width. “Whatever you say.” He continued diligently slicing the paper.

Eventually, Stiles leaned over and grabbed ten strips, stacking them up on top of each other so the holes line up. “Now you take one of these little sticks and-”

“Are these matchsticks?”

“Yes, but they never graduated to be real matches. Anyway, as I was trying to say, before I was interrupted, you take a matchstick and tie the ribbon around it. Then you thread it through the center hole. With me so far?”

Derek nodded.

“Mrs. Chen says it’s rude to interrupt.” Stephen said with a smug grin on his face. He’d moved on from making sparkly leaves to gluing artificial leaves on the outside of Mason jars. What was that word Stiles used sometimes.... decoupage? That sounded about right.

“That it is, Stevie. I’m sorry, Stiles.”

He smirked. “Now, you fan the strips out so they make a circle, and bringing one up at a time, you glue them on top of one another. When you have all strips glued, punch a hole; thread the ribbon through and tie it to the loop. Simple. See? Pumpkin. I am confident that you cannot screw these up, Babe. Okay?”

Derek went to work on paper pumpkins. Seriously? Where did Stiles intend on putting all these decorations? The Stilinski household would be covered wall-to-wall with crafts on Thursday at this point. Part of him wondered if that was the plan all along. That sounded like something Stiles would concoct.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

Derek had scrubbed his hair twice already, and glitter still washed down the drain with each rinse. _Jesus Christ, do they have to make this shit so resilient?_ He was fairly certain as he pumped another glob of shampoo into his hand that glitter had been created with psychological warfare in mind. It was the only explanation that made any kind of sense whatsoever.

He heard the shower door slide open behind him. “It looks like a strip club exploded in here.” Stiles whistled.

“Very funny.” When Stiles’ sunk his hands into his hair, Derek let his head drop onto his boyfriend’s shoulder, enjoying the sensation.

“You really are a big puppy. And wow, you are just going to walk around with shiny hair for a couple days. There is still like a metric fuckton of glitter in your hair.”

“How much, exactly, is a metric fuckton?”

Stiles rakes his nails against Derek’s scalp, and action he knew would earn an appreciative moan from the man. “Well it’s more than crapton and less than a long fuckton.”

Derek laughed into Stiles’ shoulder. It was a terrible joke, but still strangely funny, and that folks is how to know if being in love has progressed to stupidly in love: Bad jokes become funny.

When he’d rinsed his hair yet again, Derek returned the favor, soaping up Stiles’ scalp for him. “I think you should have left the glitter, at least long enough for us to get a picture of you in fairy wings and a flower crown. Purely for posterity’s sake.”

“Uh huh. You just want to use that as the picture on the cake for my 30th birthday. Admit it.”

“I am shocked! Shocked and appalled, and by shocked and appalled I mean, absolutely. You got me. I’m a terrible person; it keeps me up at night.”

Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist. “No, you’re not.” He pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “You’re wonderful.”

Stiles kissed him back with a little more heat. “Oh please, do tell me more.” He muttered against Derek’s lips.

“Fishing for compliments?” He nipped at Stiles’ collarbone before moving North to kiss Stiles’ pulse point. “You’re also funny, with a huge heart.” He nibbled at Stiles’ ear. “And incredibly sexy.”

Stiles laughed. “Me? You sure you’re talking to the right person.”

“Shut up; you know you are.” Derek was done talking and spun to press Stiles against the tile so he could he could kiss him senseless.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

Derek fidgeted in the Stilinski kitchen as he cleaned and prepped the green beans for the casserole. Why the hell had he worn a tie? He hated the bastards.

“Stop it. You look fine.”

Oh yeah. Thanksgiving dinner did not just include the three of them, John and Melissa, plus Scott and Kira. It also included Stiles’ grandparents. Apparently he wanted to make a good first impression. “I know. I’m just… nervous.”

Stiles finished peeling another sweet potato. “Nervous? About my grandparents? I thought I made it clear that they are just about the most accepting people on the planet. For crying out loud, they met at Woodstock while both of them were high as fucking kites. They didn’t get married until my mom was five. Grandma was a bra-burning feminist. I'm pretty sure, Gramps still smokes pot. Derek, if anyone from their generation is ever going to understand Stephen on the first meeting, it’s them.”

“So she’s not a feminist anymore?” He smirked.

“No, she still is. Just no longer burns bras.” Stiles put his hands on Derek’s shoulders. “Relax. They’ll love you, both of you.” He straightened Derek’s tie, tucking it back securely into his suit vest, the same vest he could not wait to get the man out of later. Dear God, he looked like a _GQ_ cover model today, practically sinful.

He sighed. “How do you know they will?”

“Because _I_ do, and they love me. Goes hand in hand.” Stiles stepped away to check on Stephen. “How are those veggies coming, Little Chef?”

Stephen beamed at him. Melissa, bless her beautiful heart had surprised him with a couple presents before she and John left to make the drive to Sacramento to pick up Stiles’ grandparents from the airport. He almost cried when he pulled the personalized apron and matching chef’s hat from the box. It was made of a pink fabric with apples of different patterns. The bottom even had a ruffle; the red trim and ties contrasted nicely with the pink. Melissa took the gift a step farther and bought him some cooking utensils made just for kids. The plastic serrated knife cut vegetables fine, but his little fingers were safe. “I peeled the cucumbers just like you showed me. They look like flowers when I slice them.”

“That’s the point.” Stiles winked. He, himself, wore an apron, only his was a Batman print. Derek borrowed John’s far less interesting black one, which was hilarious, because Stiles could not remember the last time his father cooked anything.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

Magically, the three of them managed to time the meal perfectly. Stiles pulled the sweet potato casserole out of the oven just in time for the door from the garage into the house to open. Thank the fuck they’d decorated while food cooked. Stephen had been sitting at the kitchen table for the last hour assembling his hats for everyone, (Stiles and Derek got theirs first) and when he heard the door came running over.

“Miss Melissa, I have a hat for you, and one for you Mr. Slinski.” With a flourish, he placed one on each of their heads. Then he turned to Stiles’ grandparents. “I...um...have hats for you too. I mean, if you want them.”

See that? That bit of shyness was something Stephen would never have shown before the school year. However, just like Stiles said, his grandparents took the paper hats from Stephen and placed them on their heads.

“And what is your name?” Stiles’ grandmother, Agnieszka, asked.

“Stephen.”

John filled her in. “Stephen is Derek’s son.”

“Ah yes, little  Łajek’s boyfriend. Nice to meet you, Stephen. And what a very lovely dress.”

Stephen smoothed down the fabric of his fuchsia and black floral print dress. “Thank you.”

“But it seems, you missed a button.” She knelt down and helped him refasten his cardigan. “There we go. Yes, now you look very fancy, especially with those sparkly shoes and fine turkey hat.”

Stephen covered his face to hide the blush. “Thank you, Stiles’ grandma.”

“Well you can call me Aggie.”

“Thank you, Miss Aggie. I like your bracelet too.” He pointed to the diamond bracelet adorning her wrist.

“Do you? That was a present from my dear Mikołaj. That’s this guy here.” She pointed a thumb in her husband’s direction. “You can call him, Mike.”

Derek came up behind Stiles and poked him in the ribs. “ Łajek, eh?” He asked, resting his chin on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Well it's a nickname. Now you know why I legally changed my name to Stiles when I turned eighteen. Shh don’t tell them.”

Agnieszka made her way through the kitchen, and though she might have no longer burned her bras, she still embraced the hippie life. Her long peasant skirt, catching on her shoe more than once. “And you must be Derek. My Łajek! What a handsome one you have found yourself.”

Just like his son, Derek blushed. “Nice to meet you, Ma’am.”

“Psh,” she scoffed waving him off, “you can call me Aggie too.”

The front door opened and Scott and Kira walked in. “Sorry we’re late. We had a complete failure with the first pie. It...well it wasn’t pretty.” Scott hung up their coats. “We are late, right?”

Melissa poked her head out of the kitchen. “You’re not late. We were just about to start eating.”

“Scotty, my man, take this.” Stiles pushed the stuffing in his direction. “Oh and then see Stevie, he has something for both of you.”

Scott giggled. “It wouldn’t happen to be a turkey hat would it?”

“Right you are indeed, my friend, right you are. Kira, you can put the pie on the buffet with the rest of the food.”

After several minutes of organized chaos, everyone now sat around the dining table about to eat their meals. The table only sat eight, but everyone had been gracious enough to squish together just enough for an extra chair to be added at the corner for Stephen.

“Look at this centerpiece.” Mikołaj said. “Did you make this, Łajek?” He asked of the fully assembled Styrofoam ball turkey sitting atop little ears of Indian corn.

“Stephen and I did. Derek even helped on the garlands.”

“'Cept Daddy got glitter in his hair.” Stephen giggled.

“Yes, and that too. In the right light, his hair still sparkles.” He winked at Derek.

“Everything looks wonderful, Łajek. Your mother loved crafts too.” The man nodded, with a sad expression on his face.

“I know she did, Dziadek. I know.” Stiles nodded. “So I know this is super lame, but rather than just dig in like a bunch of cavemen and women, I sort of wanted to go around the table and do the what I’m thankful for thing. Don’t think I can’t see you rolling your eyes at me, Scott. Dad, you want to start?”

John smiled. “Sure. I’m of course thankful for my family, the fact we can put food on our table, and my good health.”

“I’m thankful for my boys, all three of you.” Melissa smiled.

“I’m thankful my mom is happy, Kira, and that Stiles and I are _this_ much closer to being actual brothers.”

“Aww, thanks, Sweetie. I’m thankful for my parents, Scott, and that my photography business is finally starting to go well.”

“Well I’m thankful for my family, all of you,” Stiles squeezed Derek’s knee under the table, “the fact I am almost done with school unless I decide to pursue a PHD, that I have someone who appreciates my crafts,” he wrinkled his nose at Stephen, “that my dad is finally starting to listen to me about his diet, that Melissa keeps him on that diet- Thanks, Mel, and that well- It’s been a good year.”

“That was beautiful, Babe, and only mildly rambling.”

Stiles rolled his eyes at him.

“Um I’m thankful for Stevie and that he’s got a new school without bullies, thankful that he and I have a roof over our heads, for my friends old and new, and Stiles.”

Stephen jumped up from the table and ran towards the door to dig something out of his purse. He placed the book down in front of his father. “That’s my Thanks Book. I made it for you. It was supposed to be a surprise.” He plopped back down in his chair. “I am thankful for my Daddy. He's the best in the whole world, my new school, my best friend in the whole world, Amy, my new best friend, Mr. Slinski, Auntie Erica and Uncle Boyd, Miss Melissa, Scott and Kira, all my pretty clothes, that my cast is off...finally. I thought that thing was never going away. I’m thankful for Stiles, because he’s super cool… but mostly because for the longest time Daddy wasn’t happy. He said he was, because I made him happy, but I know it wasn’t completely true. He didn’t go on dates like other daddies, and the only hugs he ever got were from me… and now he is. He smiles all the time because of Stiles.”

Derek bit his lip to stop it from quivering and looked down at the table, trying to hide his eyes. “Thanks, Buddy.” No one drew attention to the way his voice broke on those two words.

“Let’s see…” Aggie started. “Well I am thankful for my family, the ladies I play bridge with every week, and my good health.”

Mikołaj nodded. “You all are sappy as hell.”

“You said a bad word.” Stephen whispered. "Daddy, he said a bad word."

"I know."

“I’m thankful the grocery store by our house now carries free range eggs and organic beer. Now let’s eat. I’m starving.” He started slicing up his turkey amidst the soft laughter of the rest of the group.

Around the table, several conversations broke out at once, each group catching up with one another.

“So Derek, how is the case going?” Melissa asked.

“Well,” he finished chewing and wiped his mouth, “the district wants to settle, which I am all for. The other case pled out, and they’re on their way to juvie. Well the main one is dragging his feet, but I suspect it to be settled by Christmas. It’s tricky, because the kid's home life is not stable, which explains a bit of his behavior. Things need to be sorted out. A settlement from the school would be nice so I don’t need to put Stevie through a trial, but my attorney is pressing me to push for a bigger settlement.”

“Oh?”

He took a drink from his wine glass. “Says I should go for millions, which is ridiculous. Who does that help? All it does is take needed funds away from other students. That isn’t the kind of thing I want to do. I had a meeting with him on Tuesday, and he came up with this outlandish figure. I told him all I wanted was enough to cover Stevie’s hospital bills, future therapy bills, and tuition until he graduates. I worked it out to like $265,000. I mean I don’t need money for any of that. I can pay the bills myself, but I shouldn’t have to.”

Agnieszka cut in. “What case is this, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Stevie had trouble with some bullies starting last year. They were not very happy about the way he dresses, and it got violent this year. Without going into specifics because a couple of the details are still triggering for him, Stephen ended up in the hospital. Stiles urged me to actually sue the school for non-action on the matter, because Stephen had been reporting the bullying since the beginning, and it took until this last time for them to do anything. He’s now in a private school, where tuition is just under fifteen grand a year. He’s excelling though, and he’s much happier, so it’s worth it.”

“That’s horrible.” She said. “I think you have a lovely sense of style, Stephen, and to express yourself even when bullied is very brave.”

“Thanks.”

The conversation died down once more after that. However, about ten minutes later, after Stephen asked for another roll, he turned to his father. “Daddy, where do babies come from?”

Derek choked on a bite of turkey, and Stiles whacked him on the back. “What brought this up?” He asked, his face bright red.

“Well, Amy says her mommy has a baby in her tummy and she’s going to have a baby brother. She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone yet, because it’s a surprise, but of course she told me, because we’re best friends, and best friends tell each other everything, Daddy, didn’t you know that?” Stephen rattled out in a huff.

“Um…” Derek wiped his mouth on his napkin. “Well… what specifically did you want to know?”

“How did the baby get in Mrs. Guttierez’s tummy, and how do they get the baby? Is there like a store where you buy babies when you want one?”

Completely at a loss for how to answer the question in the most age appropriate way, he turned to Stiles and mouthed ‘Help me.’ Stiles looked as lost as he did and simply shrugged, giving both his father and Melissa a pleading look. Melissa, the traitor, sat laughing in silence so hard tears rolled down her cheeks. Scott, of course was no help.

Finally after several awkward silent moments, Mikołaj put everyone out of their misery. “They had sex.”

His wife elbowed him in the side. “He’s too young for that answer.”

Stephen wrinkled his brow. “What’s-”

“Something grown ups do when they are in a relationship with someone they care about or trust.” Agnieszka said.

“Daddy, do you and Stiles do that?”

Derek dropped his head into his hands. “This...is a nightmare.” He groaned.

Stiles buried his head in his folded arms on the table. Both of them were bright red in embarrassment. John seemed to be taking great pleasure in the fact. Stiles had asked that same question at the top of his lungs in the middle of Safeway at five years old.

“Stephen, you asked about babies.” Agnieszka said.

“Oh yeah. Where do they come from?”

Leave it to the hippie feminist to come up with a suitable answer. “Well, when grown-ups, a man and a woman, want to have a baby, they should talk about it first. Then, if they’re both on board, the do a special type of hugging in their rooms. Their alone time. Now, some men have special seeds and some women have equally special eggs inside their bodies. When they do their hugging, the seed and the egg do this dance inside the lady. If everything works out that seed and egg turn into a baby. The baby grows in the mommy’s tummy until it’s big enough. Then she goes to the hospital and the doctor gets the baby out.”

“But how?”

“Very carefully, doing lots of doctor-y things.”

He pointed to his chest. “That’s how Daddy and Mommy made me?”

Derek nodded, his face still covered in mortification. “Yep.”

“Huh. And what about if they don’t have the special parts, how do they get babies then?”

“Well you can adopt a baby. Sometimes grown-ups aren’t able to take care of the baby they make. Maybe they are sick, maybe the grown-up is very poor and doesn’t have the money to raise the baby, or maybe they’re just not ready to be mommies and daddies, they give the baby to someone who can take care of and love the baby.”

He pushed food around his plate. “Like Mommy did.”

Derek patted Stephen’s arm. “Yeah, like Mommy did.” It would always be a sore subject for the both of them.

“But...what about when I see kids with two mommies or two daddies. Like Daddy and Stiles are both boys. If they wanted a baby, how would they get their baby if only men and women can grow a baby?”

“They can adopt or grow one using lots and lots of science.” Mikołaj ended the conversation. “Enough about this. Let’s have some pie and watch some damn football.”

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

Thankfully, the awkwardness of dinner faded as soon as the game was turned on, everyone gathering around television.. More than a few of them fell asleep. Stiles had the brilliant idea afterwards to pull out Monopoly, and they formed teams of two, well three in their case.

Stiles’ grandfather turned out to be quite shrewd when it came to the game. He and his wife cleaned house, effectively destroying everyone else. Scott and Kira left soon after that.

Derek had almost forgotten about the gift Stephen made for him and pulled it out, giving it a quick look. Each page contained a drawing and a sentence about something they were thankful for. Stephen had made sure each drawing was colored to perfection (Or at least to his level of perfection), even going as far as to mix media. Instead of drawing a house, he’d used Popsicle sticks to make the outline of it, filling it in with a mix of construction paper and crayon. The last page said, ‘I am thankful for: My family.’ Derek noticed right away that instead of the picture containing just himself and Stephen, it also had Stiles. With as much detail as the drawing contained, Derek knew Stephen had spent the most time on this page. A lump formed in his throat as he read what Stephen wrote.

_'I am thankful for: My family._

_My family used to just be Daddy and Me. Now there is Stiles._

_He’s Daddy’s boyfriend. Even though he’s not my daddy,_

_I love him as much as Daddy does._

_Maybe someday, he can be my daddy too. I love Daddy, but if one_

_is good, then two daddies must be much better.'_

Damn it, he was crying now, because he was beginning to realize he wanted that too.

 

*   *   *   *   *

 

Stephen fell asleep on the drive home, barely even waking when Derek changed him into pajamas.

“What’s with you?” Stiles stopped him in the hallway after he closed Stephen’s door. “Is it the baby thing? I promise no one was annoyed at the question. Kids do that. They ask stuff that makes their parents uncomfortable. It’s like a requirement or something. You should hear the things I asked my dad. Specifically, you should ask him how he answered my questions about why my penis grew bigger sometimes. I was nine, and I asked him while we were line at the bank.”

“No. It’s not that. It’s…” Derek kissed Stiles’ forehead and led him into his bedroom. He sat cross legged on the bed, patting the space across from him.

“So spill it. What’s with the brooding?”

Derek licked his lips. “I was wondering if we could...um...revisit the you moving in with us conversation.”

Stiles’ eyes widened. That was not what he was expecting to be the reason for Derek’s sudden reticence. Though, admittedly, he’d thought about bringing the subject up with Derek soon anyway. “You want me to move in?”

He nodded. “Yeah, and I’m pretty sure Stevie wants that too. You… you fit here. It’s like you belong. The house feels so much fuller whenever you come over, the good kind of full, and it’s too empty when you’re not. I mean, I understand if you don’t want to or you’re not ready, or if you need to think-” His words were cut off by Stiles’ lips against his, and a startled groan escaped his throat when he found his lap full of Stiles a few seconds later.

Stiles pulled away. “Yes, I’d love to. Just maybe...after graduation, which is in a few weeks. I don’t want the extra stress of packing and consolidating my things to interfere with my finals.”

Derek nuzzled at Stiles’ neck, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Three weeks? Yeah I think we can manage.”

“Good,” He said, in a breathy voice as Derek’s fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt. “Because I really wanted to say ‘Yes, how does tomorrow sound?’” Frantically, Stiles fumbled with the buttons on Derek’s vest. “You are wearing way too many layers.”

Laughing, Derek helped him out, by wriggling out of his shirts, before pushing Stiles’ off his shoulders. He felt a bit playful, and slipped his loosened tie around Stiles’ neck, who left it there even when they both managed to shed the rest of their clothes.

Derek looked down at him; Stiles’ pale skin flushed from arousal, as he kissed his way down his boyfriend’s torso. Stiles looked wrecked, and Derek hadn’t even done anything yet. He couldn’t wait until he could fall asleep next to him every night.

Those three weeks were the longest three weeks of his life..

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Dziadek- is Polish for Grandpa
> 
> Please don't post my work Goodreads


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